Homer Laughlin China Co. sits along the Ohio River in Newell. A bridge built at the behest of the company used to run a trolley line between Homer Laughlin's old plant in Ohio and its new plant in West Virginia. To this day, the company still collects a small toll for cars to cross the bridge.

Bags of clay sit in storage. Though pottery has been made in the region for hundreds of years, local clay is too coarse to make products like Fiesta. The Ohio River proved instrumental in importing clay from places like Georgia after the Civil War.

John Stoakes, senior modeler and digital designer, works on a mold. It can take days to create a sample of a new product using plaster casting, so the company has invested in a 3-D printer, which can help designers realize their visions much more quickly.

The "big, flat automatic jigger" can produce up to 36,000 items during an eight-hour shift. Its designer worked so hard on it that he often slept at the factory — but died of a heart attack supervising the machine's construction.

Hand liner Kevin Manypenny sends finished items down a conveyor belt to the next step on the production line. While the work he does can be automated, it's often faster to hand him the slip of the paper with the order than to reconfigure a machine.

Some of the multigenerational employees of Homer Laughlin: Kevin Manypenny (top), a hand liner, is third generation, and his brother, Jim Manypenny, is a kiln placer. President Liz McIlvain (bottom) is fourth generation, and her daughter, Maggie, is an intern for the company.

Pallets of Fiesta pieces are lined up in preparation for an upcoming retail outlet tent sale at Homer Laughlin in Newell, W.Va.

Ross Mantle for NPR

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Originally published on October 17, 2014 11:20 am

You may not know the name Homer Laughlin, a china factory in Newell, W.Va., but you'll likely recognize — or have eaten off of — its most famous product: brightly colored, informal pottery called Fiesta.

While most of America's china factories have closed, unable to compete with "made in China" or Japan or Mexico, Homer Laughlin, which set up shop on the banks of the Ohio River in 1873, is still going strong. It employs about 1,000 people.

Walk into the big, dim factory buildings, dusty and smelling of mud, and you might be back at Homer Laughlin's beginnings in the 19th century. People are sitting quietly in pools of light, carefully attaching handles to greenware — pottery that's not yet fired. Decorators are painting bands of color on glazed plates.

"I'm just a hand liner. I put lines on," says Kevin Manypenny. He's been working here for nearly 40 years.

He twirls a plate, dips a brush in brown glaze and paints three delicate lines on the plate's edge. Fiesta is about half of Homer Laughlin's business — the other half is dinnerware for hotels, and the sturdy plates and cups you find at chain restaurants. The plate he's working on is for a Boston restaurant.

Manypenny and seven of his eight siblings — and their parents — have worked at this factory. And there are dozens of families like theirs. Brothers founded the company: Homer and Shakespeare Laughlin — presumably a literary family — jumped on a new fashion for a whiter, more refined dinnerware.

"They were the young whippersnappers in the pottery world, and they were the ones who ended up successfully firing four kilns worth of whiteware before any of the other potteries could, and then they won a prize of $5,000 ... and that's what launched the Laughlin brothers into pottery production on a big scale," says Sarah Vodrey of the Museum of Ceramics across the river in East Liverpool, Ohio, where Homer Laughlin used to be based.

Around the turn of the 20th century, the factory changed hands. The new team built a plant on the West Virginia side of the river, and those long, low factory buildings are still in use today.

Then, in the 1930s, the company created Fiesta: inexpensive, colorful, cheerful dinnerware. It was a hit even in the Depression. In 1948, Homer Laughlin really stepped up the production of plates and bowls. The company designed and built its own machine inside the factory. Dave Conley, a longtime employee and unofficial company historian, calls it "the big, flat automatic."

"You've got three machines here, and each one has two heads on it, so theoretically we could be making six different items at a time," he says. Conley says that's 3,000 dozen pieces — or 36,000 pieces of pottery — every eight-hour shift. (People who make dishes talk in dozens.)

There have been improvements. Computers control the firing now. 3-D printers speed the design process. Ceramic engineers found a way to make glaze shiny without using lead — all in house.

"The people that owned our company have always put profits back into the plant to modernize, and we've always had state of the art equipment [like the big, flat automatic], and I call that state of the art even though that's as old as it is — it's almost 60 years old," Conley says.

Fiesta Revival

Inside the old buildings, with fog pouring off the Ohio River and drifting into the windows, the ware comes out of the fire, magically transformed — creamy orange, intense red, vivid turquoise. Bright pottery is stacked in bins and crates and piled all over the place.

"I remember the first time I actually went to the facility, and I'm looking around and I'm thinking, 'Boy, am I back in the 1940s or what?' I mean, even the office, it isn't all spruced up," says Bruce Smith, the head of the union representing the pottery workers. "It's the old look, and they're focused on making product and not being flashy." He says while nothing about Homer Laughlin is flashy, the workers do make decent money.

"They're good jobs and they're making a living, being able to buy a home and raise a family and retire with some dignity," Smith says.

Both management and labor consider that an achievement.

"I'm very proud to have kept this business here in the Ohio Valley. That's very important to us," says Elizabeth WellsMcIlvain, the first woman to lead Homer Laughlin, and the fourth generation of her family at the plant. Her immediate family now owns most of the business. Her daughter, Maggie, is an intern in the marketing department.

Homer Laughlin stopped producing Fiesta for a time beginning in 1973. A harvest gold color and an avocado green didn't sell. But in 1986, Bloomingdale's came calling, looking for a retro china for its stores, and Homer Laughlin made a typical, practical decision: restart an old line and revive Fiesta for retail sale along with its existing hotel and restaurant business.

"We have two sides of the business, and that's helped us tremendously because it seems when ... the retail side of the business is flourishing, the hotel side is ... having difficulties, and vice versa," McIlvain says.

It helps that Fiesta has a big fan base. Collectors stand in line for hours to get into the factory tent sales. Fans meet, they swap, they critique the company's color choices. And they wait for the new Fiesta color unveiled each March. (The color for 2014 is poppy, a bold, saturated orange.)

"They always have suggestions. One year they all wanted fuchsia, and they all arrived to Homer Laughlin to go on their tours dressed in whatever fuchsia they had. That was their silent but very loud statement," McIlvain says.

But she offered no color clues for this coming March. "That's a very deep, dark secret," she says with a laugh.

Copyright 2018 NPR. To see more, visit http://www.npr.org/.

RACHEL MARTIN, HOST:

More now from American Made, our look at the changing face of American manufacturing. This morning, a company that's been in business for more than a century, producing dinnerware on the banks of the Ohio River in Newell, West Virginia. Most American ceramics factories closed long ago, unable to compete with made-in-Japan or -Mexico. But the Homer Laughlin China plant is still going strong 141 years after opening, employing about 1,000 people. You might be familiar with its most famous product. It's that brightly colored pottery called Fiesta. NPR's Linda Wertheimer, who grew up with Fiesta, jumped at the chance to visit the factory.

LINDA WERTHEIMER, BYLINE: My mother collected a warm yellow. My Fiesta is deep cobalt blue - just so you know where I stand. Fiesta is about half Homer Laughlin's business. The other half is dinnerware for hotels and the sturdy plates and cups you find a chain restaurants. Walk into the big, dim factory buildings - dusty and smelling of mud - and you might be back at Homer Laughlin's beginnings in the 19th century. People are sitting quietly in pools of light, carefully attaching handles to greenware, - that's not-yet-fired coffee cups - decorators are painting bands of color on glazed plates.

KEVIN MANYPENNY: I'm just a hand-liner. I put lines on - the orders tell me I need to put a three-thirty-second an eighth from the edge and a three-sixty-fourth a 16th below and a three-sixty-fourth verge.

WERTHEIMER: Kevin Manypenny has worked in the Homer Laughlin factory since he was a teenager. He twirls a plate, dips a brush in brown glaze and paints three delicate lines on the plate's edge. This plate is for a Boston restaurant. Manypenny finishes the plate and then tosses it onto a broad, moving belt as if he were skipping a stone across water.

Who plays catcher down the other end?

MANYPENNY: A younger brother.

JAMES MANYPENNY: James Manypenny, I go by Jim. I'm a kiln-placer. I place ware on the kiln. It's not supposed to hit the floor. (Laughter).

WERTHEIMER: He calls the ovens which fire the China kilns - spelled K-I-L-N-S, but potters don't pronounce that N. Seven out of 8 of the Manypenny siblings and their parents have worked at this factory, and there are dozens of families like theirs. Brothers founded the company - Homer and Shakespeare Laughlin - presumably a literary family. They jumped on a new fashion for whiter, more refined dinnerware. Sarah Vodrey of the area's Ceramic Museum described their beginnings.

SARAH VODREY: They were the young whippersnappers in the pottery world, and they were the ones who ended up successfully firing for kilns worth of whiteware before any of the other potteries could. And then they won a prize of $5,000, and that's what launched the Laughlin brothers into pottery production on a big scale.

WERTHEIMER: Around the turn of the 20th century, the company changed hands. The new team built a new plant on the West Virginia side of the river, and those long, low factory buildings are still in use today. Then in the '30s, the company created Fiesta - cheap, colorful, cheerful dinnerware. It was a hit even in the Depression. In 1948, Homer Laughlin really stepped up the production of plates and bowls. They designed and built their own machine inside the factory. Dave Conley, a longtime employee and unofficial company historian, calls it the big, flat automatic.

DAVE CONLEY: This is the flat automatic jigger. You've got three machines here, and each one has two heads on it. So theoretically we could be making six different items at a time.

WERTHEIMER: He said that's 3,000 dozen pieces every eight-hour shift. People who make dishes talk in dozens. You'll have to do the math. I'm giving you the history because it's all still happening - the buildings, the machine, the kilns, Fiesta and the owners are all still going. Of course, there have been improvements. Computers control the firing now. A 3-D printer speeds the design process. Ceramic engineers found a way to make glaze shiny without using lead - all done in-house.

CONLEY: The people that owned our company have always put profits back into the plant to modernize. And we've always had state-of-the-art equipment, and I call that state-of-the-art even though it's as old as it is - it's almost 60 years old.

WERTHEIMER: He's talking about the big, flat automatic. It still works. By this time, we had walked the entire 37-acre factory floor and were standing on a loading dock. But inside the old buildings, on the chilly day we were there, with fog pouring off the Ohio River and drifting into the windows, we watched the ware come out of the fire, magically transformed - creamy orange, intense red, vivid turquoise, bright pottery stacked in bins and crates piled all over the place.

BRUCE SMITH: I remember the first time I actually went to the facility and looking around, and I'm thinking, boy, am I back in the 1940s or what? I mean, even the office, it isn't all spruced up. It's the old look, and they're focused on making product and not being flashy.

WERTHEIMER: That's Bruce Smith, head of the union representing the pottery workers. He says while nothing about Homer Laughlin is flashy, the workers do make decent money.

SMITH: You know, they're good jobs, and they're making a living, being able to buy a home and raise a family and retire with some dignity.

WERTHEIMER: Both management and labor consider that an achievement.

ELIZABETH WELLS MCILVAIN: I'm very proud to have kept this business here in the Ohio Valley. It's very important to us.

WERTHEIMER: Elizabeth Wells McIlvain is the first woman to lead Homer Laughlin and the fourth generation of her family to run the plant. Her immediate family now owns most of the business. She told us that Homer Laughlin China stopped producing Fiesta for a time in the '70s. Harvest gold and avocado green didn't sell. But in 1986, Bloomingdale's department store came calling, looking for a retro China for their stores. And Homer Laughlin made a typical, practical decision - restart an old line, revive Fiesta for retail sale, along with their existing hotel and restaurant business.

MCILVAIN: We have two sides of the business. And that's helped us tremendously because it seems when one side of the business - the retail side of the business is flourishing, the hotel side is having problems, is having difficulties and vice versa.

WERTHEIMER: It helps that Fiesta has a big fan base. Collectors stand in line for hours to get into the factory tent sales. Fans meet. They swap. They critique the company's color choices, and they wait for the new Fiesta color which is unveiled each March.

MCILVAIN: They always have suggestions. (Laughter) The one year, they all wanted fuchsia, and they all arrived to Homer Laughlin to go on their tours dressed in whatever fuchsia they had. That was their silent-but-very-loud statement.

WERTHEIMER: The folks at the factory steered us away from fuchsia as next year's color - manufacturing problems, they said. But they offered no color clues. Says Ms. McIlvain...